Marsheila Rockwell - Legacy of the Wolves

Ostra was silent for so long that Andri feared he’d pushed the shifter leader too far. Or, worse, that there was no vengeful shifter to pin these crimes on, and he would have to take on the role that had ruined his father, his family, and his life. Lycanthrope hunter. Moon stalker. Werebane .

“We do not air tribal grievances to outsiders,” Ostra finally said, his shoulders sagging, “but … there is … someone.”

Andri felt a rush of relief so heady it nearly made him dizzy. He fought to keep his words even and composed.

“Go on.”

“Several years ago, before Irulan and Javi came to stay with us, there was an … incident. A dreamsight shifter, hardly more than a boy, but revered far beyond his years for his exceptional gifts, journeyed into the Burnt Wood alone to commune with the Ancient One.”

At Andri’s questioning look, Irulan supplied, “An old dire bear who is said to have been born before the start of the Last War.” She was leaning forward, listening intently, and Andri realized that, like him, she was hearing this tale for the first time.

“Over a hundred years old?” he asked, startled. Was that even possible?

It was Ostra who answered.

“We believe the Ancient One has been blessed by Balinor, and on occasion, shares those blessings. Skunk went seeking the favor of the Host-”

“Skunk?”

“The boy,” Ostra explained. “We called him that because he was marked by one of his dreams. Though he would never speak of it, the memory of that vision branded him with streaks of hair so white it shone in the moonlight. The streaks seemed to widen with time, so that after a while, his fur was more white than black. More like a tiger, really, but the name Skunk seemed to fit him better.”

Andri exchanged an excited glance with Irulan. So white it shone in the moonlight! Could it be that the shifter they were looking for was not an albino, or even an elder, but simply a skunk-streaked mystic prone to nightmares? Mikal had been in the shadows when he was attacked-in the darkness, only the whitish fur would have stood out to him.

Andri knew he was reaching, but a shifter -any shifter-was better than the alternative. Moontouched .

He wondered briefly if that was Bishop Maellas’s reasoning, as well, but before he could follow that twisted path, Ostra resumed speaking.

“He was gone for months, and when he returned, he was not the same. No longer a boy, surely, but also sullen, uncommunicative, almost feral. He began getting in fights, but he was not strong and was beaten down many times, until he found someone even weaker than him. A gentle swiftwing girl who believed her love could change him.” Ostra paused, shaking his head sadly. “She was wrong.”

After that, the shifter leader fell into a thoughtful silence. Andri was both curious and hesitant to hear the rest of the tale. The story obviously ended badly for the girl. The only question was how badly? All things considered, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. But Irulan, never patient even at the best of times, had no such misgivings.

“What happened?” she asked, sitting forward in her chair.

Ostra heaved a sigh so long it verged on the theatrical-an uncharitable thought for which Andri chided himself.

“They married, taking a tent on the edge of camp, between the tanners and the butchers, where few would care to visit and where the noise of dying animals would hide any errant cries from the ears of those who did. The swiftwing girl-Kira, her name was-soon stopped visiting her family, leaving the tent only rarely to barter for scraps of fruit or bread. When she did, those who traded with her marked the bruises and cuts she could not conceal. And the bulge of a belly quickly swelling with Skunk’s seed. They gave her twice what her poor bone necklaces were worth, and more besides, urging her to take herself and her unborn child far from Skunk’s angry hand. But she would not listen, would not speak against her husband, and soon no longer came to trade at all. She was still two months shy of her time by the midwife’s reckoning when they found her body in the corrals, where she had seemingly been trampled by horses, though we all knew the truth. Neither she nor the babe survived. Skunk made a great show of grief, and I do believe a part of him was truly sorry. But no amount of remorse would have been enough to cover his guilt-”

Or yours , Andri thought. He kept his silence-barely-but inside he was furious. How could the tribe have let the situation get so far out of hand? If they suspected Skunk of harming his wife, why hadn’t they done something?

“-banished him from the camp and struck his name from the tribal chants, with only the marker on Kira’s grave to show he’d ever even existed.”

“So that’s why I haven’t heard this story before,” Irulan said, but Andri wasn’t listening. He imagined that poor shifter girl, alone and frightened in her tent, neighbors on either side knowing what was happening to her every night, but turning a blind eye and a deaf ear. It was too much to be borne.

“Why in the name of the Flame didn’t you do something?” His voice broke on the accusation. “You all knew what was happening, and yet you did nothing . I don’t know whose sin is worse-Skunk’s, or yours.”

Ostra blinked at him, unperturbed. “Think what you want, paladin. Kira was of age, her marriage formally recognized by the tribe. We could not act on her behalf without her consent, though some tried. Every time someone attempted to intercede, the healer had to make a visit to Skunk’s tent the next day to mend a broken bone or a shattered jaw. Kira was so clumsy, he said, and she did not once deny it. Finally, her brothers cornered Skunk and beat him to within an inch of his life, warning him that if he touched their sister again, they would risk banishment themselves to deal with him. Kira’s body was found in the corrals three days later.”

Andri shook his head, disgusted beyond words by the rationalizations. If a society’s rules did not protect those who could not protect themselves, then what good were they? Sometimes doing the right thing meant not following the rules-a stance which had landed Andri in trouble with his superiors more than once. But he had seen firsthand what happened when strict adherence to regulations superceded compassion and common sense, and he had made the decision long ago that he would always err on the side of mercy.

“So you think Skunk is behind the murders?” Irulan asked, having noticed Andri’s anger and obviously trying to derail it before he erupted and lost any chance to get information out of Ostra. Seeing her worried look, he forced himself to remember why they were there-to find a murderer, for the sakes of both the victims and those who had been wrongly accused. Focusing on the task at hand, he was able to rein in his anger at the old shifter’s complacency, but in his heart, he promised Kira and her unborn child a reckoning.

“You asked if there was anyone who would have a grudge against the whole tribe,” Ostra replied, shrugging. “Skunk vowed vengeance when we shaved him and drove him from camp. No one took the threat seriously-if he returned here, he would be killed on sight, with no questions asked. I half-believed Kira’s brothers would hunt him down and save us the trouble. But he disappeared, and we were, for the most part, happy to let his memory fade. Alas, that was not to be.”

“What do you mean? He defied the ban and came back?”

The camp leader shook his head. “No. No one from our tribe has seen him since he was shunned. But lately we have begun to hear rumors of a wild shifter terrorizing travelers to the south. He attacks at night, his dark fur nearly invisible in the darkness, save for streaks of unearthly white.”